


For A Slip Of A Girl

by JeanZedlav



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, King Renly Baratheon, King in the North (A Song of Ice and Fire), Robb Saves Sansa, Robb Stark Lives, Robb Stark is King in the North, Warg Robb Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 01:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanZedlav/pseuds/JeanZedlav
Summary: "If you mean to offer Sansa in return for your brother, waste someone else's time. Joffrey will never surrender his plaything, and Lady Catelyn is not so great a fool as to barter the Kingslayer for a slip of a girl." - Petyr Baelish, A Clash of KingsThe magic of the Children of the Forest faces that of the Red God. When Robb Stark rides to Storm's End and speaks with Renly personally he, like his father before him, finds a kingdom and a sister worth his honor.
Relationships: Robb Stark & Sansa Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	For A Slip Of A Girl

Swearing to Renly while his brother yet lived had felt like a betrayal of his father’s honor. What would they say of him? That Ned Stark’s son had turned his back on the true heir to the throne and supported an usurper. That his father’s honor had been worth nothing to his son. Favorable terms notwithstanding, Robb had been ready to refuse him and to ride out of the Tyrell camp to return to the Northern forces when it had happened. 

A sudden gust of wind had flung open the door of the tent. Grey Wind had growled low in his throat and Robb had thought he glimpsed movement, but when he turned his head, it was only the king's shadow shifting against the silken walls. He had heard Renly begin a jest, his shadow moving, lifting its sword, black on green, candles guttering, shivering, something was strange, wrong, and then he had seen Renly's sword still in its scabbard, sheathed still, but the shadowsword-

And then Grey Wind’s low growl had turned to a roar out of his mouth and he had leaped forward with his fangs bare. He had charged between the king and the shadow, tearing and snarling fiercely. They were alone in the tent, Robb and Renly and his lady knight, but blood had come pouring from the shadow where the wolf’s teeth fastened. There had been a shriek of something old and terrible, and Renly’s men had come rushing into the tent.

Too late.

Whatever had been here was freshly dead and carried off on the wind. Grey Wind had stood in the red-black puddle of its lifeblood, hackles laying flat and fierceness gone. Renly had quickly intervened from the fight that had nearly begun, ordering his men away from the wolf. He had thanked Robb and the direwolf personally for saving his life. It was over the black magic that Stannis had summoned that their pact had been formed, Stark and Baratheon and Tyrell. 

The same had seen Stannis dead come morning. Robb and his companions had stood on the hill and watched as Ser Loras broke the charge, as Renly had promised. When Stannis’ banner had fallen his mother had pointed it out, and they had known it was over. Robb had stayed long enough to see the rightful king’s body brought into camp and laid out with Baratheon honors and to know that the Red Woman had fled Stannis’ camp shortly before the battle. Then he had returned to his army to prepare to march.

Renly’s men were enough to take Kings Landing. All he had asked of the Northern forces was to guard the rear from Tywin Lannister. That was where Robb stood now, in the forefront of his men, waiting anxiously for either the Lannister forces or news from the city.

His wish had been granted in the form of a rider in Tyrell colors, a young cousin to the main branch who Renly had taken as his squire, Luthor Tyrell. As he neared, Robb’s mother had driven her horse forward to hear the news, for Renly had sworn to them that when her daughters were found a rider would be sent at once. 

“What news?” Lady Catelyn called. 

Luthor drew up his horse next to her. “The Lannisters have fled the city! Cersei, Tommen, Joffrey, all of them are gone! They took your sister Sansa with them, Your Grace!”

“They stole my sister?” Robb scowled, looking out over his men. “We must find her!”

“What news of Arya?” His mother added.

“None, my Lady.” The squire saw the dark look on Robb’s face and quickly continued. “But the king has sent out men to find the Lannisters and Lady Sansa and catch them, up the Kingsroad and down the Rose Road, and west to the Gold Road. We will find them.”

“They won’t be there,” Ser Davos Seaworth said, from the back of his black warhorse, “not if they have the sense the gods gave a fish. There are other ways out of Kings Landing, better ways for a king to flee. If the Lannisters had one good man among them they will flee another way.”

When Stannis’ body had been carried into the camp his Red Woman had long since fled, but his wife and daughter were with him. After she had argued fiercely for her daughter's claim, Renly had turned Selyse Baratheon over to her uncle Lord Alester. Princess Shireen had knelt by her father’s body and wept, unbothered by her Tyrell guards or her angry mother being led away. 

Even Renly seemed to have forgotten her until he had demanded fealty from his brother’s Hand, and the man had demanded to know the whereabouts of his niece. Upon being told that she was safe and, indeed, Renly’s heir until Queen Margaery bore a child, he had accepted defeat. When that was done, Robb had come to tell Renly that he was returning to his men. The king had smiled broadly at him and wished him a safe journey. 

Then he had said, “Our houses have been allies for generations. Our fathers fought beside each other against the Mad King and now you and I have sworn allegiance. Let us make official what our fathers could not, let me betroth you to my brother’s daughter. She is not that much younger than you, and in a few years will make a handsome bride as a sign of the oath between Stark and Baratheon.”

“The girl’s face is scarred from greyscale, Your Grace.” His mother had said, when Robb’s surprise had overtaken him. “Nor will she come with lands or dowry. I assume you mean to keep Storm’s End and Dragonstone for your sons?”

“She is no great beauty, I will not lie,” Renly had answered, “but she is my niece and I am her uncle. She is also a Princess of House Baratheon. I will pay the weight of your direwolf in gold for her dowry and the wedding may be held in Kings Landing before all the realm if it pleases you.”

His mother had turned to him. “Robb? What say you?”

“I cannot wed Princess Shireen,” he had argued, more to his mother than the listening ears around them. “I am betrothed to a daughter of House Frey.”

Renly had laughed then, loud and bright. “A daughter of House Frey? Late Lord Walder convinced you to trade a queenship for crossing the river? Nonsense. He is a bannerman of Lady Catelyn’s father and sworn to her house. He had no right to demand anything of you save common custom when you came to the Crossing.”

Robb and his men had gone aside and discussed the offer in haste. None save Robb himself was inclined to honor the agreement with the Freys. In the end, he had decided his honor was already questionable in any event and taken their advice. He had expected more argument and advancement from Renly, but the king had only happily agreed and taken his mother aside to discuss specific terms. 

That was how Robb found himself a new bride and the company of a former smuggler, who had declared that he could not go with the man who had killed Stannis over the princess’ new betrothed. 

Now Robb turned to the man and asked, “Which way? You said you were a smuggler from Flea Bottom. Find my sister!”

Ser Davos had reined his mount in a circle to look out across the green fields. After a moment of thought, he said, “That way. Towards the Rush’s fork. Toward the Westerlands.”

“Go and tell the king! Uncle, you remain with the army.” Robb ordered. Then, to Ser Davos, “Take me there!”

He put his heels to his warhorse and took off at a gallop. The magnificent black stallion was from Stannis’ camp. It was of Stormlands stock, strong and fast, while Robb rode a courser from the North. A horse bred for snows rather than war. He had to take a whip to his mare to keep up with the knight, his men losing ground on their own horses, his mother’s Riverlands palfrey behind him. Robb cared nothing for his men or his horse. He only barely registered his mother’s bay at his right. His eyes were fixed on the black, on Ser Davos, his thoughts on his sweet sister.

How long they rode at such a pace Robb did not know. They passed the outskirts of the men, rode over hills and valleys, even encountered the Gold Road once. Ser Davos did not stop for smallfolk or bloodied red-cloaked soldiers or the little village they upset in their flight. He rode as if it was his sister they sought, or the Princess herself. It was all Robb could do to stay behind him.

Finally, finally, he shouted. His voice was torn away by the wind but Robb heard it. He kicked his horse again, demanding she run faster. Up ahead of them, far up the valley, rode a small group of horses. Robb could barely make out the queen’s golden hair on her bright palomino or the white cloaks of the Kingsguard around the young king. He had eyes only for the white destrier that they had put Sansa on, her red hair like the leaves of a weirwood against her pale horse.

As Ser Davos neared them, the Kingsguard turned to form a defensive line. Cersei reached frantically for her son, shrieking something that was lost to them. King Joffrey did not heed his mother’s advice, for all that Robb was sure she was right. Whatever you could say about the queen, none of it was that she would risk her own life for glory.

Instead of running, Joffrey leaned out and caught the reins of Sansa’s horse, tearing them from the grasp of one of the Kingsguard and wrenching the mare around at the same time. From his belt, he drew a dagger, and as the white mare destrier stopped beside his golden mount he put the blade to Sansa’s throat. 

Instantly Ser Davos’ horse slowed. Beside Robb, his mother pulled up her palfrey and the thunder of hooves in his ears dimmed as the Northernmen drew to a sudden stop in fear for Sansa’s life. Facing the Kingsguard in front of their charge, they could not reach Joffrey in time. The boy was screaming something, but Robb had not stopped. With great bounds he left the horses behind him, a deep snarl coming from his throat and hate growing in his chest.

As he neared the Kingsguard their horses panicked, fighting their riders. One or two fled the scene, a white knight fell from his saddle and hit the ground with a cry and a crunch of armor. More reared and squealed, bucking in their fright, forcing their riders to focus more on their mounts than the oncoming Starks. Just as he passed, one of the men tried to swing a sword down at him and lost his seat instead.

None of this stopped Robb. He was intent on reaching Sansa, his frightened sister watching as he came for her. On his approach, her mare startled as well, reared to keep him away. Sansa’s head struck the Boy King’s with such sharpness that he let out a cry and jerked back. Clever Sansa let go of her saddle and flung herself backward, tumbling off her horse and to the ground. 

Robb raised his sword and kicked his courser again, his men behind him reaching for their own as well. “For Winterfell! For Lord Eddard!” 

Behind him came the sound of steel as they freed their swords and as one his guards shouted. “The King in the North!”

When Grey Wind had frightened Sansa’s mare her head had struck Joffrey’s so hard that he had lost his grip on his dagger and fallen from his saddle besides. He had a sword on his hip, but he was on the ground facing the direwolf who stood over Sansa snarling. There he remained, on his back and shaking as the Northernmen swept past him, horses separating as they came upon Sansa.

They ran down the Kingsguard no matter if they stood to fight or turned to flee or if they had been taken by their horse’s fright. They cut them down to a man. When Robb freed his blade from Meryn Trant’s chest and stopped to look at the bloody field around him Cersei was fading into the distance, her younger son in front of her in her saddle. Joffrey still lay where he had fallen, whimpering at the direwolf who had not left Sansa.

Deeming the battle won, Robb flung himself from his saddle net to his sister. When he knelt beside her and touched her shoulder she launched herself into his arms and wept. He did not know where their mother was and he could do nothing but rub her back and hold her tight. “It’s all right, Sansa. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you again.”

“He killed him! He killed him!” His little sister cried, grip on him never loosening. “He promised me he would be merciful and he cut father’s head off. He said that was mercy. He took me up on the walls and he made me look at it.”

Mother was there, then, and she wrapped her arms around Sansa and him both and clung to them, whispering to Sansa that everything was over now. That the city had been taken and Joffrey was a bastard and would never be king. Never have any power over her again. His baby sister only wept harder, her hands tightened in Robb’s cloak and she wept and held him as if he might vanish in the wind.

Robb looked over Sansa’s shoulder to where Lady Maege hauled the shrieking-sobbing Lannister boy to his feet. When the Boy King met Robb’s eyes he stopped screaming, fright written on his face. Robb could only wonder how many times he had laughed to see his sister suffering the same. 

“Tie him to a horse,” Robb commanded, never letting go of Sansa. “We take him back to the city for execution.”

“You can’t do this!” Joffrey protested as a rope was brought out to secure his hands. “I am the king! Let go of me! I am the king!”

Ignoring the conflict, Robb turned his attention back to his sister, but for long afterward Grey Wind stood and stared, hate in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this in the last few hours. I was looking for a fic where Robb saves Sansa. I couldn't find one, so I wrote it myself. 
> 
> It might eventually get a second chapter featuring Joffrey's death and Robb's wedding (or perhaps Dany's arrival and Arya's return), but this is all for now.


End file.
